Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1887-06-16
Joaquin Miller's Story Of His Boy
hood.

Letter to the Portland Oregonian.
My father was school teacher; my
brothers were all school teachers; l also
taught school. So must have known
at least something about books. Indeed.
my father was very learned mana
very humble and unpretending man. but
a man persistent in study. And think
he was the gentlest gentleman ever born.
He never in his life raised either hand
or voice in anger. When tell you that
for nearly sixty years he lived in the
heart of the wilderness, among will
beasts and still wilder men, yet never
fired gun or even knew how to load a
gun. you can get some idea of the beau>
tiful character of this patient and gen.
tie scboOlmaster. my father, who sleeps
down yOnder, under the valley oaks of
Oregon, by the cool. swift waters of the
Willamette.
l was put to school here at once, be-
fore the school house yet had windows
or an entire floor. | soon had chum, a
black haired, handsome and brilliant
boy of about my own age. His father
was rich, and this had spoiled him sadly.
But to me he was an idol. l was dull,
w-headed, not at all favorite with
any one. very sensitive and very ssd.
And so, as this boy was kind to me,
adored and followed him in all things.
He had stepmother. got mad and pro
posed that We should run away to Cali
fornia. We set out on foot through the
mountain trails and travelled night and
day. We met bear in the path at
dusk one dreary, rainy evening and
barely escaped up tree, where we sat
and shivered till morning The next
day We met gentleman on horseback
and asked him for money, for we were
hcngry and destitute. This man gave
US piece of gold and his name and ad-
dress. 1t was more than ten years after
that was enabled to lay before the eyes
of this great good man, who 80 gener-
ously gave bis gold to two boy trsmps,
any fit reward. He took my present
and murmured, BREAD on the waters"
He was glad, not for the worth of it, /
think, but to find bis faith in man not
betrayed. This was Hon. NJ. P Deady,
known throughout the Union as one of
the ablest jurists living.
No, not reading dime novels; nor
were we hunting Indians. We we're
running away to the mines of Califor~
mia. And we ran and we ranl Our
distracted fathers followed US. but they
never overlook US. We Jramped num-
dreds of miles. went to work, were dis
charged, not being strong enough, sep>
arated, struggled. starved. 1 got along
worse alone than with my chum; for all
liked him, none liked me. l got place
as second barkeeper with Frank Camp
bell, brother of poor BARLEY Campbell,
at "The Forks" But was bullied and
knocked about all that dreary, dreadful
winter. Out of this experience | after
ward wrote the book and the play of
THE Danites." And my poor, dear
friend, Bartley Campbell, now. dying n
the asylum. wrote my Partner and
made his fortune out of his brother
Franks letters and our mutual expert
ence in THE Forks" Frank Campbell
was the cinnamon haired uarkeeper
of the Howlin' Wilderness saloon" and
l was the bullied and misunderstood
little Billy Piper. The roughs called me
q girl because was pale and shy and
had long. yellow hair.
Two years of dreadfully hard times
and rode back to Oregon with only
500. which gave to father. for he was
no " in deot,and began where left off at
school. The school was frst-class col
lege now. l got on better, and was
chosen poet for the first commencement
of Columbia College. The valedictory
was published in the Herald, of this
first thing of mine 1 ever saw
in print.